


Hot

by snoqualmie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, THAT'S WHAT THE WORD IS, i know there's a fancy word for dry humping but i dont remember it, tooru gets felt up and jerked off lol
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-25
Updated: 2017-01-25
Packaged: 2018-09-19 20:21:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9458960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snoqualmie/pseuds/snoqualmie
Summary: Summer is awful. Sweat is slicking the inside of his elbows, his palms, behind his knees. The two strategically placed oscillating fans don't do anything but whir loudly and mingle with the buzz of the radio.





	

**Author's Note:**

> welcome to hell, u fucks  
> vaguely porn-y i guess? idk??

The heat saps the energy out of Iwaizumi’s bones. Stifling, heavy, it drags his Tuesday plans to a stuttering halt and locks them up for a cooler day. Even the thought of venturing outside makes Iwaizumi feel like he’s going to shrivel up. The family dog is stretched out on the floor, panting quietly and thumping her tail when a breeze blows something or other outside. Iwaizumi knows the feeling; he can barely breathe. Summer is awful. Sweat is slicking the inside of his elbows, his palms, behind his knees. The two strategically placed oscillating fans don't do anything but whir loudly and mingle with the buzz of the radio. Tooru is plastered to his side, tucked under his arm, long legs stretched out over Iwaizumi’s like it isn’t already too fucking hot. Hot fingers grabbing at the front of his shirt, clenching and unclenching; hot breath stuttering over his mouth with every shaky inhale Tooru leans away to suck in. Too hot, too hot, too hot. Tooru is always too much. They should crack a window or something.

Iwaizumi drags his other arm from resting by his side and cups Tooru’s jaw. He runs his thumb along the arc of his cheek and it’s burning. Tooru’s hands are sweet and slow as they dip under Iwaizumi’s shirt and touch the planes of his stomach. They catch a little bit on sweat slick skin and Iwaizumi shudders. Then he shifts, pulling Tooru closer and slipping his hand down to rest against Tooru’s throat, thumb rubbing over his Adam’s apple before pressing down until he feels a hitch of breath. Tooru pulls away and tries to blink the haze out of his eyes. His mouth hangs slack and wet. He’s gorgeous if Iwaizumi pauses to think on it for more than a millisecond.

Tooru has a hand half tucked into the waistband of Iwaizumi’s shorts and is sliding his fingers back and forth along the elastic of his boxer briefs.

“What?” Iwaizumi asks quietly. “Was that weird?”

“No,” Tooru says, eyes crinkling in a smile. “I was just wondering when you turned into such a big pervert.”

He rolls his eyes and kisses Tooru again, dragging his fingers down Tooru’s chest. He finally gets to undoing the last button of Tooru’s shirt and tugs at it, only managing to get it off one shoulder. Tooru shakes his arm free and lets it get squished and wrinkled between their bodies. It’s too bright and too flowery, a tourist’s shirt. Iwaizumi lets it slide, though, because it looks cute on him. He traces over the skin of Tooru’s stomach, smooth and too warm. Iwaizumi thumbs over a nipple, smiling against Tooru’s mouth when he shivers and grabs at his arm. He cracks an eye only to see that Tooru has done the same.

“What?” Iwaizumi repeats, pulling back and smiling. Tooru laughs and looks out the window, biting at his lower lip. Fucking _cute._

“Nothing, Iwa-chan!”

“Okay, fine.” Iwaizumi continues kissing his way up the side of Tooru’s face and nuzzles where his jaw met his earlobe. He lets his hands wander across Tooru’s chest, thumbing over his nipple again just to get that breathy knee-jerk reaction out of Tooru. Kissing _and_ getting felt up at same time is kind of overwhelming so Iwaizumi totally understands when Tooru tips his head to the side and sucks in a deep breath.

Iwaizumi can feel something heavy pooling in his gut as he mouths his way down to Tooru’s chest. When he drags his tongue flat across Tooru’s nipple, his shoulders jerk.

“Sensitive,” he rasps, grabbing a fistful of Iwaizumi’s hair and arching his back.

“No shit,” Iwaizumi murmurs.

He drops his hand to Tooru’s thighs. When Tooru shifts and let his legs fall open, Iwaizumi makes a frustrated noise. He wants to touch _everywhere_ but he’s only got two hands and, like, one mouth. Frustrating. 

He takes his time walking his fingers up, drawing spirals on the smooth skin of Tooru’s thighs while he drags his mouth across his chest, wet and lazy. They’re not even kisses, he just wants his mouth on the skin, can’t help it. It pulls quiet noises from the back of Tooru’s throat, though, and Iwaizumi wants to hear them for the rest of his life, probably.

He can feel Tooru’s nails scratching at the nape of his neck, up into his hair, back down, back up as he kisses his way across Tooru’s chest. It feels like he’s on fire, having Tooru all pliant in his arms, whispering his given name and nudging at the waistband of his shorts. Hajime’s hand slips up into ridiculously short shorts and he rubs his thumb in the curve of Oikawa’s inner thigh.

“Hajime,” Tooru sighs. Iwaizumi knows his toes curling and uncurling, they always are when he gets like this.

The afternoon sun is beating down on the concrete outside, slithering under the cracks in the doors and sticking pins and needles in Iwaizumi’s skin. He draws his hand back in favor of grabbing Tooru by the hips and tugging him fully on top of him. A little _ah_ slips from between Tooru’s lips when he settles. Iwaizumi wants to tease Tooru but he definitely doesn’t have the patience or ability to, especially when Tooru pushes down, hips shifting. He reaches and pulls Tooru down, splaying his palms on his back beneath his half-on-half-off shirt and pressing down. Their chests are plastered together, too close for such a damn hot day. Iwaizumi can feel sweat pooling in the slope between Tooru’s shoulder blades and presses his fingers into it. The air around them is stale and thick and Tooru’s exhales are sharp and warm. He rolls his hips up and groans.

“Hajime," Tooru huffs out the name, fingers twisting in Hajime’s hair as he pants against his mouth. Hajime rocks up again and digs his fingers into Tooru’s hips. Tooru gives up on words, opting instead for soft and needy noises that Hajime still isn’t used to. The summer is sweltering and days too warm to go outside always end up like this. Him and Tooru, half dressed, sweaty, clinging to each other and trying to fight the weight the heat forces into their limbs.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Tooru babbles, leaning back. He reaches between them and pops the buttons on their shorts. “Okay, okay. Iwa-chan, I wanna—please.”

“Tooru,” Hajime groans, shifting into a sitting position and pulling Tooru close. “Mom’s gonna be home really soon.”

They’re forehead to forehead and Hajime pauses to just look. Tooru is pretty even when they’re so close it looks like he’s only got one big eyeball. He’s been looking at his face since they were kids but he feels like he’ll never be used to it. Especially like this, eyelids heavy, pupils blown, cheeks flushed blotchy and pink. The tiniest pale freckles ghosted across the bridge of his nose from spending too long in the sun. He’ll never be over hearing Tooru’s voice wavering and cracking with how bad he just _wants_ wants. Tooru tugs at their zippers and yanks at Hajime’s shorts, trying to get them _down._

“Please,” Tooru breathes, arching his back. It’s not even a question anymore, just a noise. “Hajime, please. Please, please, please.”

Tooru is always too much. Too loud, too obsessed with perfection. He’s too much like this, too. Too loud, too eager, too fast, always _grabbing._ Iwaizumi could never say no, as if he would ever want to. Tooru eyes are locked between their bodies, watching the slide of fabric on fabric as he rolls his hips. The air is suffocating and recycled between them. Iwaizumi groans, half exasperated, half impatient, and kisses Tooru again. His hands are everywhere, tugging Iwaizumi’s hair, sliding down his chest, gripping his shoulders.

It feels like a half a second later when Tooru’s briefs are twisted up around his thighs. Iwaizumi doesn’t know where to look. At Tooru’s fingers, curled around him and moving agonizingly slow, at his hand wrapped around Tooru, at Tooru’s face, eyebrows pulled together, mouth slack. That’s where his eyes settle as Tooru babbles nonsense. _Yes, yes, yes, Hajime. Please, yes. Hajime, please_. Steady and loud. Iwaizumi rocks up into Tooru’s grip and it’s so _good._

“Tooru,” he grits out. “I’m not—I’m gonna. Soon.”

Iwaizumi pushes Tooru back, climbing on fully top of him and sighing when the new angle relieves the tweak of pressure building up in his wrist. He wants to watch everything. He wants more.

He jolts in surprise at the sound of his dog barking and a door slamming shut.

“Fuck,” Tooru gasps but as soon as it’s forced out of his lungs, he’s coming. Iwaizumi would laugh at the awful timing if it wasn’t trying to keep him quiet, hand pressed over Tooru’s mouth while his hips jerk up. Iwaizumi keeps moving his hand, praying to whatever gods exist that he’ll have enough time to get himself back in his pants before his mother busts the door down and his entire life ends. Tooru is still squirming, looking up at Iwaizumi with watery eyes and scrunched up eyebrows and it’s so fucking hot that if Iwaizumi was even _slightly_ in less control of the situation he would just keep going. But he doesn’t, especially when Oikawa whines and shoves Iwaizumi’s hands away.

And there’s a moment of genuine panic as Iwaizumi tries to re-clothe them and Tooru just stays slumped into the bed, thighs trembling and shoulders curling in with little jerks even though Iwaizumi isn’t even touching him anymore. By the time the two of them are dressed enough to be presentable, Tooru’s remembered how to actually talk and he’s giggling at the fact that Iwaizumi’s hand is still a mess.

Iwaizumi scowls and stuffs his hand under the blanket, wiping it off before double checking the button and zipper of his shorts. Tooru stands up on wobbly legs, walking to the other side of the room to plop down at the desk and set a volleyball in his lap. He curls one knee up and pretends to be absolutely engrossed in the veterinary science textbook on Iwaizumi’s desk. Hajime flips onto his stomach and pulls out his phone.

When his mother pokes her head in she huffs a loud sigh and gives them a disapproving look.

“Holy shit,” Iwaizumi’s mother says. “It’s stuffy as hell. Open a window or something. Have you boys just been hanging out in here all day?”

“Hi, Mama,” Iwaizumi replies. “Not all day.”

“Okay,” she says slowly, eyes narrowing. “I’m just here to change. I’m going out to run some errands tonight so I’ll be back at around nine. I’m going to leave the grocery list and some money on the counter for you guys to take care of. Okay?”

Iwaizumi nods and Tooru’s shaking with laughter when the door clicks shut again.

**Author's Note:**

> this isn't edited like... at all


End file.
